


roses are falling

by monstermash



Category: Smoke & Velvet (Interactive Fiction)
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, listen it's all about the Yearning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:15:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25062997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monstermash/pseuds/monstermash
Summary: Tired eyes watch the stained glass mobile sway with the motion of the train, the light from the full moon making the colors softer than usual.Eyes tracing over the rough and jagged shapes of the stained glass shards he's collected over time until itstingsto look at them.
Relationships: Main Character & Nico María, Main Character/Nico María
Comments: 1
Kudos: 2





	roses are falling

**Author's Note:**

> this [demo](https://dashingdon.com/play/cjlaray/smoke--velvet/mygame/) is really great, you guys should play it 👀
> 
> y'all can find out more [here](https://forum.choiceofgames.com/t/wip-smoke-velvet-working-title-update-05-19-20/77494) and [here](https://smokeandvelvet-cog.tumblr.com/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (if any of these are incorrect My Bad. i will do my best to fix these if so)
> 
> Иван-царевич - Ivan Tsarevich (Prince Ivan)  
> Жар-пти́ца - Firebird
> 
> *Dazibostia - the S&V equivalent of Russia (i've kept Moscow the same because i'm not sure if the author will state what the names of major cities are or not. i will change it if so.) It'll come up more in a later chapter

Tired eyes watch the stained glass mobile sway with the motion of the train, the light from the full moon making the colors softer than usual.

Eyes tracing over the rough and jagged shapes of the stained glass shards he's collected over time until it _stings_ to look at them.

He should sleep, should try to keep a sleep schedule that matches the rest of the team, but even he knows how much of a joke that is; they all have their nightmares, but his are always the loudest. Judging by the pressure building against the back of his skull, the nightmares are waiting, and he refuses. Refuses for this to be the third sleepless night in a row for everyone else. It doesn't happen often, but there times when they'll set each other off, a chain reaction of nightmares.

And tonight, well... if he falls asleep now, he _knows_ he'll be the one to set off everyone else.

Being cooped up on the train for too long does this to him. Far more spacious than any other train he's ever been on, but it's still cramped, everything and everyone crowded in on each other.

There's only one thing that'll relieve the way discomfort writhes beneath the surface, to chase away the restless ache in his limbs.

_(There's the well loved marionette with faded, fading, paint safely stored in the tiny closet of his room along with hazy memories of Dazibostia, of Moscow, strings gathering dust and **Иван-царевич** needs to be carved again lest it wear away entirely.)_

With a quiet sigh, Bones carefully lifts himself out of bed, doesn't bother getting dressed this late at night, and slips out of his room, mindful of the squeaky door.

All the lamps are off - have been for hours - as Bones treads as lightly as he can with only the moonlight to guide him down the narrow hallway. The rattling of the train will cover most if not all sound he makes, and he knows which floorboards to avoid, as he makes his way toward the case room; it's the only room on the train that is spacious enough for what he wants that also has furniture he can move out of the way by himself.

The air is practically freezing going from one car to the next, like claws of ice raking down his back, but at least the glamours hold for once as the train turns.

Already he can hear the music in his head, from a time long since passed, just waiting for him to be lost in it once more, but it goes quiet, barely a whisper, when he stops, eyes catching on Nico's door. Bones hopes the man hasn't fallen asleep with his hearing glamours in. It wouldn't be the first time, always leaving Nico with a headache and sore ears and Bones wanting to reach out in an attempt to soothe the pain. But he doesn't, always catching himself at the last moment, fingers curling into a fist, sure that his help wouldn't be welcomed. Not with the way the team - even Nico _(especially_ Nico) - walk on eggshells around him. Watching, waiting, for Bones to either shatter or...

_~~Or worse.~~_

Or something.

He stands there for a beat, two beats, before finally moving onward, the music of his memory swelling once more.

Memories of brightly colored feathers flash behind his eyelids as he makes space in the case room as silently as possible, memories of Annushka stretching with her friends before a long day of practicing as Bones goes to starting position. One good thing about being a living porcelain is that he has no muscles to stretch out, that he can dive right into dancing if he so chooses, which he does, floorboards cold beneath him.

Bones supposes that's another good thing about being made out of clay, being able to dance like this barefoot without the worry of cracking and splitting nails as he goes up on his toes, en pointe, before moving in a bourrée.

Falling back into the routine is easy, easier than sleeping, as he's known it his whole life. Known it even before his awakening, taught and guided through his strings.

But it is still an incomplete thing, only half of a pair.

He dances anyway, one quick pirouette after another, even when he feels eyes on him. A familiar weight, and with a quick glance he recognizes the silhouette in the doorway.

"Couldn't sleep?" Bones asks, signing along with his words as he continues, his dance nearly finished.

"Something like that," Nico answers, voice sounding rough.

Brow furrowing, Bones looks at him again before ending with a penché. Sleep mussed hair paired with the slightly dazed look in his eyes, Nico looks soft and it's doing things to Bones' soul.

"Was I being too loud?" He honestly doesn't think he was, but if he's been wrong about that then he'll... well, he doesn't really know. Stop, probably. "I can stop if I was, I just—"

"No!" Bones' blinks at the sudden answer and waits as Nico tries not to stumble over his words. His face is red. Why is his face red? Is he feeling alright? Bones' hand barely lifts from his side, as if to check, before he remembers that it likely wouldn't be welcome. "No, I was already awake, I... You don't have to stop, you weren't being loud."

"Oh." Silence falls over them, both unsure where to go from here.

Scratching the back of his neck, he gestures to the open space. "Would you like to join me?"

Hesitation and and something that looks a lot like curiosity war on Nico's face, and for a few moments, Bones is absolutely sure Nico will politely decline and either go back to bed or sit at the table with mountains of files.

"Dancing isn't exactly my strong suit," Nico hedges, though there's a certain spark in his eyes that Bones recognizes. A want; to join in, to be included.

"I can teach you," Bones offers. It would be nice to dance with someone again, especially if that someone is the man standing before him. "Basics first, of course."

Another moment passes by and then, just like that, the tension in the human's shoulders finally relaxes as he nods. A smile tugs at Bones' lips, growing ever so slightly when Nico matches it.

They start off simply, with what stretches Bones can hazily recall - not much point in stretching when one has no muscles and is made of clay - before he shows Nico basic footwork which leads into Bones trying to help him make his movements more fluid and graceful before they get into anything more complex.

"Where did you learn to..."

"Ballet?" Bones finishes for him. Nico nods as he follows Bones' lead, if a little stiffly. "I was a marionette, part of a set pair that belonged to a young ballerina in Moscow. Иван-царевич and жар-пти́ца."

"Which one were you?"

"Жар-пти́ца. The firedbird. We were Annushka's favorites, always taking us with her wherever she went," Bones says, a faint smile on his face as he gently corrects Nico's posture. "Ivan and I were a gift, to remind her of home."

Expensive and beautifully crafted gifts, but durable and easy for a beginner like Annushka to use. The other students had been entranced by every performance, reenactments of the day's lessons to help commit them to memory.

Old guilt and a heavy sadness settle in Bones' gut; only he woke up, and he'd taken Ivan with him when he had, one marionette dragging another down cold, dark streets in the middle of winter. Doing so had nearly killed him, nearly ate up his waning energy, but he hadn't been thinking clearly. Luckily, he had run into Oksana and then things had gotten better for a time. It wasn't until later that Oksana told him how their kind come into being, what was needed and what happened if left to stagnate.

Needless to say, at this point, as long as Bones keeps Ivan with him it's unlikely that the marionette will ever awaken, if he ever had the ability to begin with.

It's selfish of him, but he can't stand the thought of the possibility of the other waking only to be destroyed in fear.

A hand touching his arm jolts him out of his thoughts to find Nico looking at him, brow pinched in concern, while Bones wants to sink into the comforting warmth that radiates from their point of contact.

"Are you alright?"

Swallowing thickly, Bones nods. "Yeah, I'm alright. Just got a little lost in the past."

He regrets the words as soon as he's said them because then Nico looks even more concerned than before, maybe even slightly panicked, drawing his hand back and Bones already misses the casual touch, the warmth of it. Another reminder of why he shouldn't talk about what he does or doesn't remember, why touch is something he apparently isn't allowed to have. Bones just makes everyone uncomfortable, Nico especially.

At the look on Nico's face, Bones already knows what is coming next. It's about time he draw back as well anyway; he doesn't like that he makes Nico uncomfortable. Nervous. Maybe if Bones could actually remember whatever it was he had done, then maybe Nico wouldn't be this way around him.

(It must be something terrible - _Bones_ must've done something terrible to warrant such uneasy reactions.)

Nico looks like he's about to say something, but Bones beats him to it.

"I should get to bed," he says with a tight smile as he takes a step back towards the train car door. "You should too, or Fatima will tease you about being too absorbed in work again."

And with that, Bones leaves Nico standing there, alone.

He tries not to think too much about the way Nico had moved like he wanted to reach out to him. It's better to not get his hopes up, to not project what he wants to happen onto others, because why would anyone be interested in a chronically ill, amnesiac parolee?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao uhh... normally Bones isn't this self deprecating and pessimistic, but he's having a rough night as well as there being a couple things factoring into his current low opinion of himself (mostly the whole "he can't remember the past year or two and no one (Nico) will tell him what happened so he assumes he did something really Horrible and Shitty"). basically he's just hella sensitive and people keeping secrets about him doesn't help the situation at all
> 
> also, since Living Porcelains don't have parents, i headcanon that they adapt the name of whichever person/other Living Person finds and helps them for the patronymic name (depending on if the country/culture uses patronymic names, of course). for example, Bones was "born" in Dazibostia, so his patronymic name is a little different than what is typical (Yasha Oksanovich Markov) like Oksana's is.
> 
> i'm also fairly certain that porcelains don't have memories from before their awakenings, but since they're heavily tied to strong emotions creating them i like to think that they remember bits and pieces that are tied to those strong emotions but not much else. kind of like how we sometimes have some memories of our early lives before our memory has fully developed if that makes sense?


End file.
